


Touch-up Job

by persnickett



Category: Fast & Furious (2009), Fast and the Furious (2001), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:18:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persnickett/pseuds/persnickett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom thinks too much</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch-up Job

Some guys were talkers, and some were thinkers.

Brian was a talker. Drove Dom fucking batty. There were days he cranked the radio, just to drown him out.

Today though, that was backfiring like an over-tuned Mustang with new glasspacks. It was like the DJs were in on the joke.

> If you start me up  
> If you start me up I'll never stop

And Dom? Maybe he would have liked to consider himself a thinker but, truth was, Dom was a _toucher_.

Back home, it was a rare thing for Dom to pass Mia in the hall, or to angle around her in the kitchen, without a quick squeeze to her shoulder. A kiss on the cheek, if they’d been bickering.

Every settling of differences with Vince since their childhood had always ended with a rough tousle of that scruffy hair of his. Or, as they grew older, Vince’s hand over Dom’s scalp, palm sliding like 80 grit sandpaper over the razor stubble.

It had taken Dom a lot longer to get there with Brian. Dom wasn’t sure why, could have been anything. Maybe he was afraid where it would lead. Maybe some small part of him had known it would land him exactly where he was now.

> If you start me up  
> If you start me up I'll never stop

Or maybe it was just Brian’s hands-off attitude. The independent hunch to the broad shoulders; hands stuffed in his pockets where they couldn’t reach out, couldn’t do any damage to his whole ‘I am an island’ routine. 

Nope, Brian wasn’t much for the touch. But lately…

Dom could have been imaging things, but Brian seemed…different. The gazes that lingered a little too long, the xenon-bright smile – nothing new.

But now, their fingers always brushed together when they passed each other the tools. And Brian had taken to leaning so close over Dom’s shoulder to peer into the engine when he asked his opinion, that Dom could feel the heat off his skin right through the thin layers of fabric they always stripped down to. Too warm for coveralls here.

> I've been running hot  
> You got me ticking gonna blow my top

God, that radio was just like a sick joke Dom couldn’t share. Brian was watching him, Dom could feel it. Those piercing blue eyes looking right through him just like even the Stones seemed to be able to, today.

> If you start me up  
> If you start me up I'll never stop, never stop, never stop

“You think too much Dom,” Brian said. Smiling the way he did.

> You make a grown man cry

Damn.

> You make a grown man cry
> 
> You make a grown man cry

That smile, that gave so much away. Even when he was talking tough, Brian couldn’t keep that goofy grin off his face. He was too open, too welcoming, trusting. It was what made him such a good narc. Brian could sell you any line and you’d swallow it, hook and sinker. People _wanted_ to trust Brian. Because Brian wanted to trust them too.  

It was a mark of how far gone he was, that Dom let Brian put his hands to the Charger. But the buster’d earned it. He brought her back from the dead. Did it for Dom. Was still doing it. For both of them.

> Spread out the oil, the gasoline  
> I walk smooth, ride in a mean, mean machine  
> Start it up

Dom realized he was staring. Glaring maybe. Hadn’t said a word.

> If you start it up  
> Kick on the starter give it all you got, you got, you got

“See?”

Brian Smartass O’Conner.

> I can't compete with the riders in the other heats

So, Dom let a smirk curve his lips. Popped him, hard, on the shoulder. He wasn't sure it counted. Maybe. 

> If you rough it up  
> If you like it I can slide it up, slide it up, slide it up, slide it up

Brian squawked indelicately, then broke off into self-satisfied chuckling as Dom made his way back over to the tool chest. But smartass always had something more to say.

“Seriously, Dom. You’re quiet. …I mean, more than usual.”

Dom put down the socket wrench and turned. Brian was still bent slightly over his work, head twisted over his shoulder to look Dom in the eye, questioning. Dom let his gaze drift slowly down over the long curve Brian’s body made, and then back up in time to see him swallow, hard.

“You don’t wanna know what I’m thinking, Blondie."

> Don't make a grown man cry
> 
> Don't make a grown man cry 
> 
> Don't make a grown man cry  

Brian gave up on the Dodge; wiped his hands on his jeans. He was forever doing that, never seeming to learn or to care. Always leaving black prints like bruises on his thighs, and hips, and ass. He turned to lean carefully against the Charger’s nose, legs apart and chin up in clear invitation.

> My eyes dilate, my lips go green  
> My hands are greasy  
> She's a mean, mean machine

“Try me.”

> Start it up… 

Dom intended to. He shut the tool drawer and reached for the fridge instead. Enough talk for one day. There were five Corona inside, and he popped the cap off two, for a start.

Enough thinking too.

The sun was warm in the yard, and Dom took a pull off the chilled bottle in his right hand, holding the one in his left out behind him without looking back. He didn’t need to see. He could feel Brian’s gaze follow him out of the garage; heard the soft shuffling of the kid’s sneakers as he grabbed a rag to clean up with; knew the moment Brian came, blinking in the late afternoon glare, to his side. He could feel the touch before it came; one warm, calloused hand on the back of his neck, the other pulling the cool of the Corona from his fingers.

> If you start me up, give it all you got  
> You got to never, never, never stop - never, never  
> Slide it up

Only then did he turn, and watch, but still he knew what he’d see. Brian tipping his head back, not looking at the sky but with eyes closed, just welcoming the sun on his face. Dom let his eyes follow the play of it across the slant of Brian’s features; watched the light search out the gold in his hair and the stubble on his jaw, and set it ablaze. The blue eyes would open next, Brian holding up the bottle in his hand to admire the clear liquid within before bringing it to his lips. He took three good swallows before he met Dom’s gaze and smiled that smile, arm still draped lazily across the yoke of Dom’s shoulders.

> You make a grown man cry
> 
> You make a grown man cry
> 
> You make a grown man cry

Dom grinned back as he turned and stepped in, closing the gap between their bodies.

> Ride like the wind at double speed  
> I'll take you places that you've never, never seen

Yep. Sometimes even a talker had nothing to say. And that could be good. Real good.

 

 

> Start it up  
> Love the day when we will never stop, never stop - never never never stop  
> Tough me up  
> Never stop, never stop, never stop
> 
>  
> 
> You, you, you make a grown man cry  
> You, you make a dead man come  
> You, you make a dead man come
> 
>  - Rolling Stones

 

_______________________  
'Snick, Sept 2010


End file.
